Nick Schultz uses this bicycle
to get around town, including
the hotel where a local social
service agency is paying for him
to live. Like dozens of other
teenagers in Kenosha County,
Schultz faced homelessness
earlier this year after learning
he was too old for foster care
but couldn't support himself
while still in high school. (
KENOSHA NEWS PHOTO BY BRIAN
PASSINO )

He shares a bathroom and kitchen
with people he doesn’t know. He
tries not to think about how
much he hates it. And he calls a
local shelter coordinator almost
every day for advice, support or
just to say hi.

But he’s not on the street. And
he’s pretty sure he knows where
he’ll be sleeping every night,
at least for the rest of the
semester.

Which is more than the high
school senior knew in November —
and so much less than he hoped
for after months worrying he
wouldn’t have a place to live.

It’s also less than one local
legislator and members of
Kenosha County’s social service
system hoped they could deliver
after turning their combined
attention toward finding
emergency foster care for
Schultz and another area
teenager.

“It’s a hard time,” Schultz
said.

That’s because Schultz, like
dozens of other teens in Kenosha
County who have lost their homes
— and often at least one of
their parents — are caught in a
kind of social service limbo.

At 18, they can work and drive
and rent apartments. Their
families can legally turn their
backs. And society says they
should be able to pull it all
together.

But with no jobs, no driver’s
licenses or cars and no homes to
call their own, many lack the
resources to really pull it off.

On top of that, they are too old
for most foster care. And
there’s little hope of help from
young adult independent living
programs; the waiting lists are
just too long.

So, they ask to stay at a
friend’s house. They call an
aunt. They clean basements and
garages and promise not to be
too much trouble, hoping it’s
enough to buy them one more day.

Then, they wait. For a call. For
help. For the bottom to drop
out.

It’s a heart-breaking cycle that
JoAnna Wynn has watched too many
times since she opened Walkin’
In My Shoes, a homeless youth
drop-in center in Kenosha.

And it’s a cycle she’s seen play
out since Schultz asked for her
help earlier this year.

The downward spiral

For Schultz, the spiral began
over the summer.

He and his dad disagreed about a
family relationship and, he
said, his dad showed him the
door.

After that, he couch-hopped his
way around town, crashing with
family, friends, anyone who
would help. As his 18th birthday
approached in November, he
realized he might not be able to
count on such kindnesses much
longer.

“I can hardly concentrate in
school as it is because of
what’s going on,” Schultz said a
few weeks ago.

But he has no plans to drop out.
In fact, he wants to go to
college. The Universal Technical
Institute in Illinois, to be
exact. And he wants to be a
mechanic.

For now, that goal — and the
automotive classes he takes at
school — are about all that’s
keeping him in school. That and
the hope that, if he can just
get a job, just get a place to
live, he can reunite with his
siblings, who scattered after
his mother died a few years ago.

But even those tethers frayed as
the months wore on with no
permanent place to live.

Finally, a school counselor
directed him to Crisis
Intervention, which gave him
four phone numbers — one for a
homeless shelter, two for
independent living programs and
one for Wynn.

No luck at the shelter; you’ve
got to be 18 to stay. No luck
with the programs; there were 50
or 60 people, age 18 to 21, on
the list ahead of him.

Wynn was the only one who could
help.

And, she said, “I still feel
like I failed him.”

Finally, he got wheels

Wynn did get Schultz a new bike
— not something she expected
when she called a local shop to
ask about a repair.

But it was a godsend for
Schultz, who, while he can fix
most any car, can’t yet drive;
he hasn’t had the money or means
to get his license, so he relies
on his bike to get around. And
his old, too-small dirt bike
just wasn’t up to it.

But when it came to housing,
Wynn just couldn’t make it
happen.

She called social services,
homeless shelters, everyone she
could think of. Who then called
everyone they could think of.

Nothing.

Then, someone called state Rep.
Samantha Kerkman.

“I immediately got on the
phone,” said Kerkman, R-Randall.

Even Kerkman wasn’t sure what to
expect. But, by that afternoon,
caseworkers had cut through
(some of) the confusion of what
to do with an almost
18-year-old, and the temporary
placement in the group home was
arranged.

Not ideal, those involved
agreed, but better than the
street.

Judge on his side

The situation reminded Kerkman,
who first experienced the child
welfare world years ago when her
parents fostered one of her
childhood friends, that the
system has definite holes.

“The system is sound, but we
need to make changes. I think
there is a greater need than
ever before,” Kerkman said.

But, she admitted, “It’s a
difficult system to fix.”

Particularly as young people age
out of that system.

With 18 still the end date for
nearly all foster care, Kerkman
worried what would happen to
young adults like Schultz in the
years after that — those
still-formative times in their
early 20s when, not quite
children and not quite capable
adults, young people learn to
balance checkbooks and cook
simple dinners. Years when,
while not required, it can be so
transformative to have a place
to go for Thanksgiving or
Christmas, someone to check on
them, someone to call.

For Schultz, that person has
been Wynn, who joked about
becoming “surrogate grandmother”
for Schultz and other teens in
his position.

Kerkman hopes she can help

Kerkman hasn’t quite gained
surrogate status, but she has
developed a concern for Schultz
and the other teenager, who did
not want to speak for this
story.

When she intervened, Kerkman
didn’t even know their names.
And, as the holidays approached,
privacy rules kept her from
getting anything but scant
details about how they were
doing.

Still, she kept tabs from afar,
thinking of them and working
toward ways to avoid situations
like theirs in the future. And
she and Wynn prepared separately
to meet with state and county
officials, each trying to work
with children and family service
agencies to improve foster care
and help homeless teens.

For now, Kerkman said, “I’m
hopeful that these kids can use
some of the things they’ve been
given in their short time in the
system. Get their feet on the
ground.”